


Epilogue: In which Howl Invites Sophie up to his Bedroom

by ai_love_gaara



Category: Howl Series - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: Asexual Character, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Double Entendre, F/M, Headcanon, Hilarity Ensues, Innuendo, One Shot, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 02:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15921094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ai_love_gaara/pseuds/ai_love_gaara
Summary: It’s the first night since Sophie’s curse has been lifted. When Howl is hit with the realisation that a young woman is sleeping under his roof, it’s only natural that he offer to share his bed. Who could object? Of course Sophie would, to Howl’s bewilderment. [One shot]





	Epilogue: In which Howl Invites Sophie up to his Bedroom

**Author's Note:**

> **Q: Do you have an idea of what a typical day in [Howl and Sophie’s] happily ever after is like?**  
>  Diana Wynne Jones: Well, there would be at least two quarrels, one violent argument, and an explosion of strange magic. They are not a quiet pair.
> 
>  **[Note]:** In the home of Wizard Howl, a mobile castle in the universe imagined by Diana Wynne Jones, where magic and characters like Howl and Sophie really exist, it is actually a mistake to assume that certain events in the novel unfolded the way they did in the popular Miyazaki film. While the moving castle did move house(s) in both incarnations, Howl did not add in an extra bedroom for Sophie in the book. In fact, Sophie had spent the entire novel, before and after the move, sleeping on a foldable bed underneath the stairs. This was no cause for lament, for she had quickly become quite fond of the little corner she called her "cubby".
> 
>  **Update 29/12/2018:** **ITALIAN TRANSLATION AVAILABLE!!** It was the craziest thing - one day on Tumblr, [The-Greatest-Jackman](https://the-greatest-jackman.tumblr.com/) so kindly asked me if she could translate my fic into her native Italian! ^0^ When I went into writing this fic, I had zero expectations for how this would be received, or if anyone would read it to the end...  
> I'm continually astounded by this wonderful fandom; there really are beautiful humans in this world and it's so cool to know that the Book!HMC fandom is full of them ^_^  
> So, any Italians out there or those interested in an Italian version, [you can read the translation on their Wattpad here!](https://my.w.tt/SpJfo7hv1S) She's known there as **Checkpoint11** , and she's taken the time out of her busy and super-fun-sounding life to work on this <3\. It's one of the most _bizarre_ experiences I've ever had the honour to happen to me, and all the more touching. Thank you so much for your good work! *blows kisses*

Howl had known for quite some time that the grandly aged woman wandering about his home was, in fact, a bespelled young lady. However, as was his custom to ignore the not-so-pressing matters of daily life – not to mention his habit of outright avoiding especially pressing matters – Howl did not concern himself over certain particulars. This included the specifics of Sophie’s sleeping arrangements. To be fair, he hadn’t noticed any of the particulars surrounding his apprentice Michael, when the latter took permanent shelter in his castle before Sophie. This was a testament to Howl’s primary preoccupation with his own person: while it was in his nature to obsess over minutiae such as his appearance, he could also overlook what was otherwise right under his nose. His attention was quite selective.

It was the first night of Sophie’s curse being lifted that Howl was finally confronted with one such oversight. He had just stepped into the stairwell leading to his and Michael's bedrooms, after a hectic day of defying death at least thrice and then having to attend to rowdy visitors. He was now dying to dive into his sheets upstairs when Sophie's usual bedtime routine unusually caught his eye.

Her freshly brushed hair flopped about her, now a gleaming golden-red, conspicuous behind the obstruction of the rickety wooden staircase. Her mannerisms and nightdress were the same as they had always been, yet the jarring difference of her bouncier locks and restored youth drew attention to a childlike demeanour so pronounced, it seemed almost deliberate. Happily making herself comfortable, Sophie suddenly struck Howl as quite the ingénue. How odd for him not to have noticed before! Curiously, the youthful qualities that were most striking to him were neither her hair nor her other physical changes – although those were responsible for triggering his epiphany – but rather what had remained the same.

And she looks so happy to be in such a miserable bed, oh bless her, thought Howl. We can’t have her there! It’s at least five times too small for her, the poor thing!

As flawed and self-absorbed as he was, Howl was never one to turn his back on the plights of others if he could help it. So it was only natural that Howl offered, in the spur of his compassion, "Sophie dear, how would you like to come up to my bedroom instead?"

And he meant it kindly, and literally; nothing more, nothing less. It was only after the utterance did he realise how much his words were in danger of being misconstrued. As soon as he registered this second, unintended meaning, he found it very queer of him to dish out the line without his usual intentions for once. Adding to his ‘guilt’, Howl had incidentally wondered earlier on whether Sophie realised what his proposal of happily ever after would eventually entail; that it was sure to include certain benefits. While his bedroom offer may have been initiated innocently, he had no qualms in owning what could be seen as a smooth pick-up line. He wasn’t one to deny an extra score. And so naturally, Howl called upon confidence instead of embarrassment to save face. He coolly disguised his own double-take with his most dazzling smile.

Sophie looked up at him incredulously. She eyed his smile with small apprehension, mentally breaking down the dazzle into gears and intentions. She was too used to his behaviour by now that it was safe to always assume an underlying motive every time he pulled his charm.

"And why would I want to do that?" she questioned, her younger voice still undeniably in her typical deadpan.

Howl was not yet sure if Sophie was playing along, or was genuinely oblivious. There was only one way to make certain, and it was not because Howl didn’t want to offend her. Why would he deny himself some extra fun of poking her just a bit more? Or even better, extending the subject for as long as he could get away with it?

"Why, as a gentleman, I couldn’t possibly let a lady stay in such un-ladylike conditions!" Howl proclaimed, as if this were the sole, and very obvious, reason. And it truly _was_ so, at least for the span of his genuine offering of a lodgement upgrade. Regardless of any other extracurricular intents – and who is to say there are any? – such an upgrade undeniably stands! he assured himself. "How could I live with myself if I did that?"

"You lost no sleep letting an old lady sleep under the stairs," Sophie reminded him. "I'd say that was already quite un-gentlemanly of you. I don't see why it makes it any better or worse if it’s a young lady instead. If you ask me, it’s worse that she was _old_."

"You forget," protested Howl, wiggling his index finger side to side, "that you barged into my house on your own, without any warning or invitation. How could one be entitled to finer hospitality on such premises? You were by no means a guest."

"And so I'm a guest now?" asked Sophie.

"Yes, as the owner of this house, I'm _now_ inviting you," said Howl pleasantly, "very kindly and generously, to use my much more agreeable quarters, out of the goodness of my heart. That's the difference. You have my permission this time, whereas previously, you officially had not."

“Agreeable to who?” challenged Sophie. “Not to me, by any means. No offence, but your bedroom preferences don’t really suit my anal inclinations. We just have very different lifestyle choices, and I accept that.”

Howl’s mouth betrayed him as it twitched into a grin in response. "So...you don't think I can make you come tonight, then?"  he asked, feigning innocence. Sure, it was rather immature of him, but he couldn’t resist.

Howl then took a moment to remind himself of what it was they were literally discussing, in case he slipped up again. That’s right, preferences of cleanliness. Not _other_ preferences in the bedroom. Better not scare her off at this time, Howl cautioned himself. Sophie was affronted by a fair amount of dirt upstairs as it was, so perhaps it was not wise to reveal that upstairs Howl also housed a dirty mind.

Nevertheless, Sophie continued speaking nonchalantly without the air of having registered any double entendres. Howl bemusedly wagered that her rather wonderful banter was owed to her innocence, and not clever wordplay. For worse or for better, his playful comment was lost on her. He was still smirking all the while she replied, “You very well know how vocal I’ve been about the state of your room. And those spiders. I’m afraid I’ll have to refuse, unless it was cleaned up first.”

Howl struck a look and pose of deep offence. “You injure me, Sophie. It’s one thing to reject an act of kindness, but it really is your bullying way to add insult to injury, isn’t it?” Now it was time for him to look sorry for himself. “You give unwanted critique, and then go and demand more than what’s on offer.”

“Oh I meant no offence,” said Sophie, unperturbed. “I only stated what you already know. And just a word of advice: if you were to invite any respectable lady up there, I’m sure they would feel the same way.”

“Are you saying that innocent spiders have to _die_ simply because they don’t suit some unfeeling woman’s taste?” Howl continued, flicking his hand for emphasis. He looked down at Sophie from his higher ground on the stairs. “I didn’t realise ‘happily ever after’ meant sacrificing your own choices, your own personality, and your own _morals_ to suit someone else.”

Sophie was largely unmoved. It was a typical Sophie-response to a likewise typical Howl-tirade.

She’s more heartless than a witch could ever theoretically become! Howl thought as he beheld her. And she has no fire demon to lay the blame on!

Smiling, she responded to his dramatics with her usual factual tone. “Exactly –  I wouldn’t _dream_ of forcing you to kill all your beloved spiders. And I never expected you to clean that pigsty of yours, which you have every right to live in, as you once told me, remember?” Sophie showily started to gather her blankets about her again. “You don’t have to change at all. So I guess the simplest option is for me to sleep down here, which I’m very happy to do, which I’ve always done, which neither of us had any qualms about until now.”

“But this _still_ doesn’t sit right with me,” Howl protested in a tragic voice. He refused to be defeated so easily. He bought time by crossing his arms with an extra range of motion than would necessitate a regular person, which may or may not have had anything to do with his long, tattered sleeves. He paused with an expression of troubled contemplation. This was all to mask his brain frantically devising another tactic. Sophie, of course, indiscriminately ignored his display of uneasiness whether they were acted or genuine.

This was not going the way he had planned. Granted, he didn’t have a plan to begin with, but he wasn’t expecting such resistance this late in the game. And for a scenario like this one, no less. What was a simple offer on his part had escalated into a philosophical debate.

Sophie accepting to live happily ever after with him earlier that day, while a big relief, was admittedly a surprise. She had never been so accommodating. Howl had started to believe that falling in love for real meant that gone were the days of having to woo a woman, much less the woman who had already agreed to be with him. He started to feel silly for second-guessing himself, for doubting for a second that life with Sophie would be hair-raising. He shook his head as he watched Sophie busy herself with her pillow. Was it in amusement?

"Well, that is very kind of you," said Sophie pleasantly, "but I don't see why I should have any need. An elderly woman would certainly benefit from such an offer, but a young woman like me can surely manage what I’ve long put up with, thank you very much. In comparison, this feels like a five-star hotel." And she smiled without any hint of rudeness. She tucked herself in, and if that didn’t appear final enough, added, “Good night, Howl.”

This shouldn’t do. Once settled in, she was definitely going to pay no more attention to him, whether she was to fall asleep or only pretend to. He had to get her attention again quickly. He knew what to use against her now.

“Fine!” Howl yelled in his most noble voice. “Then I shall cast aside my lifestyle preferences! No more dirt and spiders! There, I give it all up! It’s but a small sacrifice to attend to the larger injustice I see before me.” Howl pressed one hand on his chest, the other hand flung palm-up towards the bundle of sheets which was Sophie’s lying figure. These gestures too, unfortunately, went unnoticed.

Sophie could vividly imagine his demeanour regardless, what with having witnessed him do so many a time in waking life. He employed this overly polite manner of speaking especially when answering soldiers from the Kingsbury door.

“I would even swap places with you, Sophie dear,” Howl projected as if reciting a soliloquy, perfectly positioned within the spotlight produced by an overhanging lamp. It was such a shame that these fine details had no audience save for his own dramatic, elongated shadow acting alongside him. But ever the professional, Howl carried on. “You can have my room all to yourself and I, this humble bed of yours. But we both know I am far too tall for this corner, which was clearly never designed to function as sleeping chambers to begin with.”

Sophie didn’t budge, but she had a feeling as to what Howl would bring up next.

Howl sensed her tension. Now was the final push. Pouring the most sincerity he could muster into his delivery, he proclaimed, “I deeply regret that I never noticed these shambles before; forgive me, Sophie. Although, you _did_ say you were content with this. Alas, I’m afraid it can no longer be. You cannot hide how you are far too big for this space in your current form.” He thrust his finger towards the bulge under the covers near the edge of the bed where her bent knees must have been.

Sophie frowned slightly. She had hoped that she merely looked cosy in her foetal position, but in fact, this was all to keep her otherwise overhanging legs on top of the bed. She knew that Howl could see this. So she said nothing.

“I can make it up to you now,” Howl said magnanimously. “Forget about young or old ladies! You physically cannot sleep down here. As the master of this castle, I implore you to use my room instead. I see you’re settled in for tonight and I would hate to disturb you further. But starting from tomorrow, you now have my permission to clean out my room to your heart’s content.”

“Excuse me?” Sophie sat up in her bed. “Me, clean _your_ room?”

“Contain your excitement, now,” said Howl smugly, putting out his hand as a stop sign. “Tomorrow, I said.”

Sophie laughed humourlessly. “And why should I do that? If you want your room cleaned, you do it yourself.”

“I beg your pardon?” said Howl in surprise.

“Now _that’s_ a one-of-a-kind offer, I must say, inviting a guest into your foul room but making _them_ clean it for the _guest’s_ sake.” Sophie snorted. It was the same, familiar horn her elderly nose had frequently sounded.

“What problem do you have now? Isn’t this what you wanted?” Howl said exasperatedly. “I’m the one bending to you here! It’s _you_ who wanted to clean my room, not me.”

“Oh no, I never said ‘you _must_ clean it’; you’re bringing this onto yourself,” corrected Sophie calmly.

“You're right, I only have to eradicate my sense of self if it's to appease others,” said Howl. “Whatever happened to accepting people as they are? Or have you never done that for me, Sophie, unlike how I’ve always treated you?”

“You’re free to live in squalor for all I care. There, I’m making your life easier. You don’t have to do or change anything if we just slept separately as normal,” retorted Sophie. “I like sleeping down here. If you wanted to entice me to come up there so badly, then it’s in _your_ hands to clean it up yourself. Or go and magic it clean. I seem to recall that you’re a wizard?”

“And if I recall correctly,” argued Howl, “some old, filthy-clean hag was quite the busybody, I had to physically throw myself in her way to stop her from cleaning my room. What happened to her?”

“Yes, I did fully intend to clean it out as your cleaning lady,” said Sophie pointedly. “And you declined, ever so passionately. I got the message. That offer has long expired. You can’t just change your mind at a much later time and say, ‘Okay, I want you to clean it now. So go and do it’ – now that’s just exploitation. As if I’m at your beck and call, the nerve!”

“Which is what _any_ professional cleaning lady would do! That’s literally part of the job!” cried Howl, pulling down clenched fists in the air. “What a curse! To have a cleaning lady force a trial on you, which nobody asked for nor wanted; and yet when you finally _do_ ask them to do something for you – and within the boundaries of their services on offer, no less – they refuse!”

“So…I’m still living here on the pretence of being your cleaning lady, then?” Sophie questioned, one eyebrow raised. It was always a good feeling to best Howl through sound logic.

“Am I paying you?” Howl said irritably. He could now see where Sophie was going with this conversation. He didn’t want to spell out the nature of their renewed cohabitation agreement, not while he wasn’t in the mood. It was hardly romantic this way.

“What are the terms and conditions of me staying here, then?” Sophie prodded.

“What is it with everybody and contracts nowadays?” Howl exclaimed, whipping around and stomping up the stairs. “Contracts, contracts, contracts. I just got out of one today! Have some consideration and let me rest!”

Now he was slithering out of answering me, thought Sophie. At least she distracted him from the bedding dilemma. But she suddenly decided, rather wickedly, that she hadn’t pushed him enough. While they were on the subject, she wanted to tease it out of him just a bit more. “And what exactly _did_ we agree on today? Everything happened so fast, I just need to make sure we were talking about the same thing…”

Howl was glad his back was towards her. That didn’t stop him from knowing that Sophie must have been smirking. “Fine, if you really insist on having this agreement in writing, we can even sign a document if you want,” he yelled from atop the stairs, feigning annoyance. Howl lingered with his hand on the bannister. “Where do you want to do it? The courthouse? A chapel? Do you want to bring your sisters and stepmother in as witnesses? If we did that, I’m inviting my sister and her family, you’re aware. Those things take a great deal of delicate planning, and you know me –  I wouldn’t be too pleased if we rushed on the details. Such as what we’re wearing, for one thing…Anyway,” Howl snapped, swapping his tone to one of exhaustion, “since I’ve had one too many contracts in my life, here’s some advice: sign this one only if you’re really sure.”

And before he would give Sophie the chance to protest his newest suggestion (for how could his barely regained heart bear another rejection?), a summoned wind swung the door as Howl stepped through it, grandly closing the view of Howl’s hair and sleeves flowing elegantly about him.

*       *       *

It was all well and good to exit a losing argument with dignity by having the last syllable, but Howl was still smarting over being rejected that it took a few moments for him to digest the horrific scene before him.

His bedroom, why…it was _clean_. What witchery was this? Howl staggered towards his four-poster bed, his arm bent in front of him, his long billowing sleeve shielding him from the frightening nothingness that threatened to greet him. As he creaked his head to look under and up at the canopy, there came that nothingness he braced himself for – it was void of his eight-legged companions. Empty. Vacated. _Cleaned._

Howl solemnly slid his finger down one of the bed’s pillars. Dusted so disgustingly diligently. There were no traces left on his finger, nor were there any usual slide-marks amidst the no-longer-existing layer of dust. He couldn’t bear to inspect what other atrocities his room revealed. A verbal display of disdain was most appropriate, and fast becoming overdue. He remained quiet for another moment for maximum effect. And then-

“SOPHIE!” Howl bellowed. “When did you learn to deceive so openly?! What in the devil’s name have you done to my room?!” He knew Sophie could not see him, but both his hands were clawing his head in agony. It made him feel better. But not really. He was still very much upset.

Oh dear, I forgot about that! Sophie thought as she was zapped into alertness downstairs. She had known Howl would not be happy about Fanny and Mrs Fairfax’s interference with his bedroom. She felt an erratic pang of sympathy for what he must be going through.

“It wasn’t me this time!” Sophie shouted up towards his room.

She heard Michael race towards the outburst. No doubt Michael, like herself, feared the threat of green slime. Her fault or not, Sophie knew she was going to be stuck cleaning the aftermath, which she wasn’t particularly excited to relive.

“Bollocks! Nobody would go the extra mile to clean without magic except Sophie! I know my trade, you know – and this was the skilful work of two hands and a broom,” cried Howl. He ran back downstairs, arms flailed back, and nearly ran straight into Michael, who looked well agitated.

Sophie was now propped in a four-limbed stance on her bed, looking straight at Howl. “Actually, two sets of hands and two brooms. My stepmother and Mrs Fairfax took it upon themselves to clean out your room for you.”

Was that guilt that ever so slightly traced over her face? Howl thought.

“She’s right, Howl,” said Michael hesitantly. “You were busy fighting off the Witch at your sister’s in Wales.”

“And nobody had the thought to stop them? Even on behalf of the poor, absent homeowner – who was risking his life to save all your necks, by the way! – did nobody say anything?” Howl raised his eyebrow at Sophie, who ‘nobody’ was obviously directed towards. He decided he liked the look of guilt she wore. That was rare. She should feel accountable more often, Howl thought.

Michael answered in her defence. “Most of the sweeping happened when Sophie left to fetch Miss Angorian in the Waste. Sophie wasn’t here to stop them.”

“See, it wasn’t me. Your official guests did that,” Sophie chimed in. And with that, instead of looking further sorry for him, any and all previous showings of guilt disappeared. “You did say you invited them over here yourself, am I right? I _told_ you any respectable woman would object to your bedroom!”

Howl saw in her expression a dash of smugness in lieu of pity. While Sophie’s youthful face did bear a substantial resemblance to her face as an elderly woman, it was these unsympathetic facial expressions Sophie had constantly worn that was most accustomed.

I could always respond with my regular custom, thought Howl. He knew they were expecting another round of slime. However, Howl did not like to use the same tactic twice. It had not stopped him from effectively threatening to do so regardless, on more than one occasion. It was pretty handy ammunition to carry around; it humoured him, especially when Sophie, who was harder to push, eventually came to do as he wanted. He decided to press her with a more unexpected approach for this particular impasse.

“I apologise for blaming you, Sophie dear,” said Howl wistfully.

Sophie’s face contorted with confusion. She instantly locked eyes with Michael, who too looked perplexed.

Nicely done, thought Howl. Catching people off-guard was ever satisfying. “It was wrong of me to jump to conclusions. But look, isn’t that convenient? It’s already been cleaned for you. You’ve been saved from all this mess and need no longer confine yourself down here.”

“Nice try,” Sophie said, recovering, “but I highly doubt Fanny and Mrs Fairfax had the time to wash out your bedsheets and linen. You were drunk in bed last night, did you know? Unless your bed really did escape you in the end. But before then you were bedridden with what you say was the most terrible cold, remember? And heavens knows what other diseases that bed has contracted and how long since it’s last been washed. Frankly, I would rather sleep on the floor. That would be more hygienic. And if I did that, I may as well stay down here, thank you.”

Michael turned red and looked embarrassed on Howl’s behalf. Howl, however, puffed out his chest and wore the utmost noble expression.

“Not to worry, I was only thinking of you, Sophie dear,” Howl announced. “Yet I am also a gentleman, and I will do as my lady wishes. I didn’t realise there was someone else as noble as I who would opt for the more humble sleeping arrangement, but I respect your choice.”

Howl watched another ripple of guilt trickle into Sophie’s features once again before he whirled around and ascended the stairs, chin poised high. You lose some, but you win some too, Howl told himself between measured steps. Even Sophie must be thinking she was too harsh on such a kind soul like me. And why call this a loss when I do it so magnificently?

Without a glance back, Howl graciously re-entered his room with the door swinging back silently. Again, he refused to repeat any of his previous theatrics. He opened his eyes to his spotless, dustless, cobweb-less, and spider-less room. It looked quite empty, even though the space housed the same amount of furniture and possessions as before. But what was missing, in spite of someone’s explicit requirement that the room ought to first be cleaned, was a certain lady in his bed. He had returned alone. He also happened to be newly unattached to Calcifer, who sensibly decided to celebrate his first night of acquired freedom out and about. A foreign pounding spurred in his chest. Howl now felt lonelier than ever.

So _this_ was his reward for ridding Ingary of the Witch of the Waste. This was what awaited him after rescuing Sophie. This was one long, exhausting, altogether _terrible_ day.

*       *       *

Sophie was finding it hard to get comfortable, but it was not wholly because of the lack of space. Sophie, you’ve done it again, she thought ruefully. All Howl did was come after me in the Waste and offer me a place to sleep, and as usual, I made a mess of things. He didn’t throw his usual tantrum this time. He must’ve really been hurt. I probably took it a bit too far with the insults, even though I was merely being honest.

Suddenly her eyes snapped open. Oh no, what if he cleans his bedsheets then? she thought with a jolt. The one barrier to sleeping in Howl’s room, according to Sophie’s argument, would no longer be valid. Her heart started behaving weirdly in her state of franticness. But what was she afraid of? She couldn't still be that same, little grey mouse who turned down his offer last time. Sophie shuddered at the memory. What if Howl was simply being kind as before, and she truly offended him this time?

You might be young again, Sophie, she told herself, but you are a grown-up. If it came down to sharing a bed, surely you can both go about it like adults! You’re being silly now. But then again, could Howl be counted on to behave for once?

Sophie’s sole remaining saving grace was her proclamation of love for her stairwell dwelling. Unfortunately, she had never spent the night down here as a young woman. She was now almost double her height when she was cursed. The space was awfully cramped, and impossible to lie down in with her legs extended. Squeezing her knees to her chest, she decided that all was well this way. She’d rather die than waltz upstairs and ask Howl if he could spare some room for her, coincidentally after she had sized up her predicament and now that Howl’s room was relatively clean. That would be exploiting him somewhat. While Sophie was not above being an occasional hypocrite when she couldn’t help it, she quite liked feeling victorious and would rather remain so. That meant both putting up with and fighting her corner.

A sigh escaped her, which she hastily disguised into a yawn. Trust my fortune to land me such a reward! Sophie cursed inwardly. But admittedly, outarguing Howl this time around did leave a distinct bitter taste amidst the sweetness, so she guessed that it was fitting.

Have you learnt nothing, Sophie? she berated herself, careful not to do so out loud. In the end you are resigning yourself to a second-rate fate as you have always done. Except this one hasn’t been imposed onto you, it’s a fate you chose for yourself. She couldn’t decide if that made it better or worse. Was she still unable to change her situation?

Suddenly, an idea came to her. She looked ahead at the staircase. “We _are_ in a Wizard’s castle, are we not? I would say that a moving castle could do with a moving staircase. Now _that_ would be neat! How about it?” she asked the wooden slabs of the stairs. “Do you think you could squish over to the side a bit for me?”

And just like that, as if in response, the group of steps closest to Sophie’s toes slowly trudged along, allowing more room for her feet.

Sophie relaxed a little. “Wonderful, and just a little more…That should do, thank you.” By now, Sophie was laying flat on her back, legs lazily outstretched.

*       *       *

Sophie awoke the next day to a yelp. Howl was regaining his footing, clutching at the door to the stairwell. It must have broken his fall.

“Sophie…” Howl drawled, his tone unsurprised and accusing. He looked over his shoulder with narrowed eyes. His eyes were red-rimmed. His distress the previous night must have impacted his sleep. Meanwhile, Sophie’s face was one of glowing youth from what must have been a good night’s rest.

Sophie avoided his gaze by looking instead towards the staircase. In fact, the sight held her attention. The wooden steps were slowing down from what looked to be a downwards descent. “Oh, don’t we have a spring in our step this morning,” Sophie chirped. At length she stretched, fully extending her long, slender arms and legs with ease–

Wait a minute, I can’t _still_ be hungover, can I? Howl thought, scratching his head. How is this possible?

It suddenly dawned on him that the staircase appeared offset more to one side than usual. This possibly contributed to his misstep just now, on top of the assisted descent that he did not expect. It had interfered with his muscle memory.

Howl blinked as Sophie finished stretching with a loud but cheerful grunt. Her side of the stairwell obviously benefitted from the extra negative space. Being cramped was no longer an issue. Botheration! She had managed to get herself out of it.

She ought to let him play the part of a valiant hero some of the time. Why did Sophie have to interfere with his fantasies like that, even back at the Witch of the Waste’s castle? She only had to wait but a few more seconds for him. It had looked so good in his head, too – literally sweeping Sophie off her feet in his arms, her look of adoration at him, his hair and robes fluttering in slow motion… But what had he come to expect by then? And now he had signed up to Sophie sweeping everybody off their feet instead with a broom - only when least wanted and _not_ when politely requested of her, apparently. 

As Sophie proudly watched the looping slabs of stairs slow to a stop, Howl swiftly retreated to his sanctuary. He would mull over his thoughts during his daily bathroom regime. Everybody knew to give him at least two hours' well-deserved personal space in the morning. And everybody seemed to get by without him lately, he thought a little sadly.

Upon looking in the mirror, the sight of a red-eyed zombie with dark stubble shocked him into sobriety. Did I really look like that all day yesterday? Howl realised in utter terror. And practically everyone I know of saw me - plus I met with all of Sophie's family!

Now that was a sight _far_ from how he envisioned Sophie’s rescue. He had alarmingly let himself go as of late. And yet…Sophie still chose to stay with him. She had lived with all his bad habits, and he had embarrassingly slipped up and let her see his bare face on an off-day to boot, so even Howl could not imagine why. Without helping it, the wrinkles from Howl’s look of self-loathing smoothened into a serene smile.

Come to think of it, Howl was quite impressed, too. Sophie had never seen any escalators in Wales. Malls were all the rage right now in his homeworld. He’d have to take her out to the one that just opened near his sister’s. But still, why did he never possess the thought to include something like an escalator in his magical, mobile castle before?

Despite putting up with Sophie and her imposed changes as their self-appointed cleaning lady these past months, Howl could not map out what further changes he might see in his castle now that Sophie was to stay with him. No, from now on it was _their_ moving castle. For the first time in a long while – given the Witch’s curse he had long tried to escape – Howl looked forward to the future. Who knew what havoc could be unleashed between the two of them together?

It was hard to tell just what potential lay in Sophie as a formidable witch herself, but given her self-made escalator, she truly did have wells of creativity. She could be quite the rival in terms of imagination, something Howl prided himself on. Howl thanked his lucky fallen star that Sophie was on his side; having a witch like her as competition would not be in his favour. He had better marry her soon, then. But first things first, how was he to get her into his bed?

Or, Howl thought grimly, that could very possibly be the _last_ event in the sequence. Just like the traditional way. His disapproving sister Megan would at least be happy about that. But, if their first day of happily ever after was anything to go by, their relationship was going to be anything but traditional. Now that in itself was enthralling, not to mention a lot of work. And a forecast of more grey hairs. I’m never going to compromise on colouring my hair, Howl promised stubbornly. Sophie better not touch my bottles again, or Hell hath no wrath than a dye job gone wrong.

And like birds of a feather, Howl realised that Sophie would most likely never compromise on sleeping under the stairs, either. It looked like he’d have to buckle down to her at any disagreement and not just this dilemma, but Sophie was not one to budge. He foresaw a never-ending stalemate. An ironically exciting one. What would they say or do to each other tomorrow?

Howl caught his reflection smirking in contemplation. He had never known that a shared domestic life could be more thrilling than playing the field, but he knew that it would be with Sophie. Being tied down was hardly going to be boring, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I set out to write this assuming I’d be writing from Sophie’s POV. It quickly flipped over to be more Howl-central, which would’ve greatly intimidated me if I knew in advance that this would happen. In true Howl-fashion, I was too much a coward to attempt to see inside the mind of this rather unique, flamboyant womaniser. It would’ve been far safer to leave him a bit more mysterious, so I don’t know what possessed me. Nevertheless, it was so much fun! I absolutely adore Sophie, and for all her stubbornness and self-deceit (or perhaps because of this), I’ve enjoyed her narration whilst reading the book many-a-time, that I thought I was “fluent in Sophie”. It made more sense to approach it from her wonderful perspective. Ah well, this was new and unexpected!
> 
> This was a personal challenge for me in another spectrum. As someone who is asexual (but romantic!) and incidentally quite naive, I knew I had to work extra hard to write a convincing Howl, who I see as _very_ different to myself (i.o.w. he is _so_ not ace). It's not in my nature but I decided to construct and throw in a couple sexual jokes for good measure. I hope it doesn't show in the end result that this is completely foreign territory for me.
> 
> If anyone knows how Howl would finally succeed in his endeavours, or what circumstances would lead to them finally sharing a bed, I would love to know. I’m curious myself now. I’m sure that would never be such a straightforward task. (And *SPOILER ALERT* yes I do know the eventual outcome *cough*Morgan*cough* but I’m sure we’re all wondering about the HOW, aren’t we?). By all means, hit me with any recs that maintain their exciting, quarrelsome nature from the books!


End file.
